Of Knights And Jesters
by The1Herton
Summary: After The Joker and Harley Quinn abduct Billionaire Bruce Wayne in the hopes of securing ransom, Batman finds in himself in perhaps the only situation where it's more beneficial to be out of costume-convincing the villainous Harley that her affections for his nemesis are misplaced. No batsuits allowed! Going to be either a two-shot or a three-shot.
1. Continuity Notes on Batman

This "chapter" is just here in case the status quo of my Batman stories (either this one, or later ones I will write) confuses anybody. If you have no issues, then skip this and head for the story proper, which begins next "chapter". This is just here to lay down the backstory leading into the greater fic.

* * *

*One quick word about continuity*

Here is a list of things/people that have happened/exist in my Batman canon for the purposes of this story or any other Batman stories I write, unless stipulated:

-Arkham Origins

-All of Batman: The Animated Series

-All of Justice League/Unlimited (except for episodes featuring Batman Beyond)

-85% of major comic events (Death in the Family, Knightfall, Last Laugh, Emperor Joker, Killing Joke, No Man's Land, Hush, Under the Hood, Batman RIP, Final Crisis, Return of Bruce Wayne, Battle for the Cowl, Night of Owls, etc.)

-Arkham Asylum (video game)

-Barbara Gordon (Formerly Oracle, now Batgirl again)

-Dick Grayson (Formerly Robin I, Batman, now Nightwing again)

-Jason Todd (Formerly Robin II, now Red Hood)

-Tim Drake (Robin III)

-Stephanie Brown (Has always been Spoiler)

-Cassandra Cain (Formerly Batgirl, now Batwoman)

Here are the things/people that have NOT happened/don't exist for the purposes of this story:

-The Man Who Laughs

-Arkham City

-Arkham Asylum (comic)

-Batman And Son

-Batman Inc.

-Death of the Family

-Harley's time in the Suicide Squad

-Damian Wayne (sorry guys, nothing against the kid, just simpler for my stories if he doesn't exist)

Damian's absense and Cass's new role as Batwoman means certain events happen very differently (Battle for the Cowl, for instance, being a huge offender). Basically, just paint with a nice, broad brush, and only read this note if something mentioned in-story confuses you.

* * *

Thanks for reading, y'all! Now, onto the story in the following "chapter"...


	2. Of Knights And Jesters, One

A/N: 'Sup, people! I have not abandoned or forgotten_ The Strange Life After_, it's just stuck on an immovable object of writer's block at the moment, and in the meantime, I had this cute little idea I couldn't get rid of. This will most likely be either a two-shot or a three-shot, each part of roughly this length. This first part can potentially stand on its own if you prefer a more open-ended take on the pairing. In keeping with my love for strange pairings, this is a Batman/Harley, and since I am a Batman fan above anything else in my life (no joke!), I'll try to make this entertaining for both fans and non-fans of the pairing. There'll be some angst, some humor, and a whole heap of romance, although this first part is more laying the groundwork for later romance.

* * *

_Of Knights and Jesters_

"Sometimes, something catastrophic can occur in a split second that changes a person's life forever; other times one minor incident can lead to another and then another and another, eventually setting off just as big a change in a body's life."

-Jeanette Walls

* * *

By the time the patrons and tellers realize what is going on, the gas is already spreading. The alarm blares seconds too late, and Bruce Wayne barely has time to speculate who could be responsible before he hears the cackle.

'_Just wonderful…'_ Batman/Bruce thinks, grimly contemplating the ramifications of just subduing the clown outright, costume or no costume. He'd built up immunity to Joker's gasses and toxins years ago, but such an advantage is utterly useless to him as Bruce Wayne. He has just seconds to fake a bout of hysteria before he finds himself locking eyes with his most hated enemy.

The Joker pauses for the briefest of moments, seeming to see something in the eyes of the anonymous bank patron that he recognizes, but ultimately continues forward, barking orders at his gas-masked lackeys to fill the giant Santa-esque sack which had been slung across his shoulder, and was now deposited carelessly on the floor. He lights up a cigarette, and the faceless goon who helpfully reminds him that it's against etiquette to smoke in a public building promptly finds his eyeball being used as an ash-tray.

"Anyone else feel like _advising_ me?" Joker croons, taking unrestrained glee in watching the thug scream and claw at the affected area. His comrades shake their heads quickly, murmuring an out-of sync chorus of 'no's and 'of course not, boss's.

Bruce watches out of the corner of his eye, still pretending to be incapacitated, while inwardly feeling nothing but disgust and contempt.

"Puddin'!"

The call comes from outside, and moments later the source of the shrill voice comes cartwheeling into the bank, also gas-masked.

"Ah, THERE you are, my dear!" Joker says with a grin. His cadence and tone fluctuation are, as always, so out of the ordinary as to be offensive to the untrained ear. "Be a doll, will you, and help…_liberate_ these fine people of their earthly belongings!"

"Right away, Mistah J!"

Bruce almost works to suppress a wry smirk at her deceptively innocuous voice, before remembering that due to the…_unusual_ (he almost uses the word 'typical', before remembering his lack of batsuit) circumstances he finds himself in, he can smirk all he wants, provided he keeps laughing like a diseased madman. Not unlike his counterpart across the room, who has now taken to randomly kicking the patrons near him for no readily apparent reason.

Soon enough, Quinn approaches Bruce and begins the arduous task of frisking his person, which he makes sure to make as difficult as possible by exaggerating his kicking and jerking motions. After several failed attempts, Quinn becomes aggravated with him.

"Will you hold _still_, already!" She grumbles, more to herself than to her 'unaware' hostage. "Jeez, it's like trying to hold down a kid at the doctor's or somethin'…" Quinn redoubles her efforts in earnest, managing to find precisely nothing of value, or any form of identification on Bruce's person. Bruce silently reaffirms his praise for himself and the decision he had made years ago never to carry a wallet.

Frustrated with her pointless effort, Quinn makes to stand up, before stopping short when she gets a better look at his face.

"Wait a sec, do I know you?" She strokes her chin and ponders for just a second, before forcibly jerking Bruce's head upwards so their eyes meet. Bruce shudders inwardly, hoping his bone structure hasn't tipped her off to his secret. "That's it! You're Bruce Wayne!"

Bruce labors harder than he ever has in his life to suppress a snort.

'_Quinn never was very observant…'_

"Puddin'! Come here!" Quinn yells, jerking Bruce unceremoniously back to reality. Within seconds, Bruce is staring into the eyes of evil incarnate, intensely working to prevent himself from breaking character, as well as his adversary's teeth.

"What am I looking at, Harley?" Joker sneers, after a cursory glance fails to reveal anything interesting.

"It's Bruce Wayne, sweetie!" Quinn coos, patting Bruce on the head and simultaneously filling him with a hatred rivaled only by her companion.

Joker's impossibly wide grin prefaces his clarification:

"The Billionaire?"

Quinn's own ever-present smile widens considerably as the implications dawn on her psychotic lover.

"We could take him for ransom and make ten times what we hauled here, Puddin'!" Quinn drawls. Knowing that such crimes are usually considered by The Joker himself to be beneath him, Bruce inwardly cringes and braces himself to bear witness to the beating that will no doubt follow.

"Boys!" Joker barks and snaps his fingers, causing his four still-standing henchman to drop the now-stuffed sack of bills and stand at attention. "Leave anything you haven't already loaded. You!" He turns to the man on his far right, "Put the sack in the van, QUICKLY…then pull it around. The rest of you reprobates, grab Brucey-boy here and add him to the loot collection! By the time this thing is through, we'll be able to fund _smiles_ for generations!"

Bruce's stomach clenches as he realizes Joker isn't above such crimes on this particular day, and not for the first time since this situation began, he curses his decision to come to the bank himself. If he had sent Alfred, Bruce could have already been here as Batman by now, and broken up this operation.

But as Bruce Wayne, he has no way to communicate with the police or the Batcave except for the communicator in his car, which is out of his reach unless he is willing to blow his cover in front of The Joker; or the homing beacon sown discreetly into his breast pocket, which is in _just_ the right place on his person to make it impossible to trigger without a deliberate motion. A motion which he can't make as long as he has to fake hysteria. Further complicating matters is the fact that as far as anyone else knows, Joker is still in a coma, locked securely in the infirm wing at Arkham. Bruce himself hadn't known Joker had escaped until he came strolling into Gotham's First National Bank a mere three minutes before.

How such pertinent information managed to slip Batman's net will be a matter immediately addressed upon his escape from this improbable situation, but right now, Bruce's mind races at a million miles per second as Joker's goons pick him up bodily; and with not a little difficulty as Bruce's supposed involuntary laughing fit causes him to 'accidentally' kick two of the men as hard as he can, incapacitating one with a kick to the pelvic bone, and angering the other. He is forcibly thrown into the back of the purple spray-painted getaway van, and as quickly as Harley Quinn and Joker can pile into the back of the van behind him, the van is peeling away to the soundtrack of the belated police sirens on the other side of the bank.

Luckily for Bruce (despite his own steadfast disbelief in luck), the mild celebration inside the van around him allows him to take a half-second to activate his homing device. Between the signal, and the dispatched thug left at the scene for interrogation, he has little doubt that either Robin, or Batgirl, or both, will be coming to liberate 'poor Bruce Wayne' from his captors within the next couple of hours. For now, all he can do is wait.

Almost as soon as he has this thought, however, Joker has pulled him up by his collar and is moving to inject something into his right arm. Bruce contemplates breaking cover once again but restrains himself once more, if only because Harley Quinn is now staring intently from the seat directly across from him. He realizes why after a half-second: He has forgotten to maintain his laughter, such is his unease with the hands of his enemy, one of which now rests on the back of his shoulder, the other continuing to hold the unknown syringe menacingly. Bruce tries to play it off as though his lungs were out of breath, and immediately begins to force a chuckle again, though his voice is now hoarse. The syringe moves ever closer.

"Strange how Batman never showed" Joker scowls to himself, "but, I suppose we can't always get what we want!" And just like that, his mood has taken a one-hundred-eighty degree turn. "_Soooo,_ Brucey!" Joker says, turning to Bruce and clapping him on the back jovially. "How are you doing on this _fine_, fun-filled day?"

Bruce doesn't turn his head to meet the piercing green gaze, instead continuing to laugh and watch Quinn for signs that she may be onto his act. When their eyes meet, he rolls his own up into his head, playing the 'hysteria' for all that its worth.

"Oh, _that's_ right!" Joker cackles next to him. "You're probably a little too worked up to focus _properly…_" The syringe goes into his arm and its all Bruce can do not to break his captor's disproportionately long nose. "Let's fix that, _shall we?_" Joker presses the injector down, and Bruce finds himself fighting to stay awake.

"Pumpkin, I think you gave him too much!" Bruce hears from the seat in front of him. It sounds like Quinn, but his vision is now gone completely, and his ears sound like they are filled with water, so he can't be sure.

"_Hmmmm._ Well, that's…_odd_. Ol' Brucey must have a weak constitution for a man his size." This voice is unmistakably that of his enemy, but it might as well be Captain Boomerang, for all the good this knowledge does Bruce.

Seconds later, he is out completely, his form slumping over on top of the much smaller body of Harley Quinn, who squeaks in surprise.

* * *

Bruce awakens to find himself sitting down, and is immediately aware that his hands are tied to something hard and metallic. He is tied up in a damp, muggy room, with the only light-source being a small barrel of garbage burning in the corner uncomfortably close to him. Taking stock of his surroundings more quickly, he realizes he is in a warehouse of unknown nature, although based on the atmosphere and the sound of rushing water under the floor, he can deduce quickly that it's located on the Gotham Pier, near the Amusement Mile.

"Hiya, Brucey!"

Bruce tries to look to his left, only to find his neck, like his hands, securely bound to the pole behind him. Noticing the attempt, Harley Quinn saunters into view, and, despite his best effort, Bruce (being a red-blooded male) can't help but immediately notice that her Jester's outfit has been replaced with something a tad more…revealing. His anatomy would respond were it not for the years of training Bruce Wayne spent honing his willpower to the absolute pinnacle of human capability.

"Don't take it personal, Brucey. Mistah J gets a little paranoid sometimes, is all." Noticing the way Bruce's steely gaze assesses her form, Quinn smirks and does a little twirl. "Like the outfit? It's new. Mistah J seems to like it…" She sniggers to herself as she trails off.

Indeed, any man would be hard-pressed not to enjoy the figure in front of them. Quinn stands, 'dressed', if you can call it that, in a matching leather jacket and pants (red and black, or course) the former of which is cut high enough to showcase her bare midriff, and the latter of which are form fitting. Under the jacket, she wears a defaced, 'Jokerized' white T-shirt, cut at the same length. Despite himself, Bruce notices the black thong straps that peak out of the hem of her low-rise leather pants. The look is completed by her signature white face-paint, red and black boots, a black domino mask, and pigtails.

"Anyway, here's what's going on" Quinn begins again, when Bruce doesn't respond. "We're gonna hold you for ransom. 'S nothing personal, we just need the money so Mistah J can make more of his fun stuff." Her face turns darker momentarily, as she continues: "I wanted to help with the planning, but Mistah J says you're 'too important'—"she punctuates this statement with sarcastic air-quotes—"So now I get to be stuck here with you on babysitting duty."

Quinn points her comically over-sized gun at him for emphasis on that last sentence, and continues to train it on him as she walks around him three-hundred-sixty degrees, continuing:

"So here's the deal. Don't try anything funny—" She chuckles to herself as she realizes the irony of that statement—"and I won't have to hurt you. M'kay?" She dials up the sickeningly sweet tone on the last few words, while paradoxically attempting to make her body language more threatening, refusing to holster the gun.

Bruce almost replies instinctively in his normal voice as Batman, but catches himself once he remembers that he is out of costume. He considers playing the 'spoiled rich-kid' card to the hilt and acting cowardly, but quickly decides that it would be throwing too much too soon. Harley has met Bruce Wayne before during one of her brief brushes with sanity, and will likely realize he is acting even if she doesn't know the reason. He decides, after a moment, on a more diplomatic tact, while still keeping in line with the public persona of Bruce Wayne:

"I won't make any trouble, Miss Quinn, honest" Bruce says, shrugging his shoulders to the best of his ability.

Quinn waves her hand dismissively.

"Don't you 'Miss Quinn' me! You're probably older than I am. Call me Harley. Everyone does."

'_Where have I heard that before?'_

"Do you mind if I talk to you? I mean, since you're guarding me anyway…You don't have to say anything, I just know I'll get bored sitting here with nothing to do while you wait to contact the right people."

'_He casts the line…'_

Quinn cocks her head curiously at him, before slumping down on her butt directly in front of him, back pressed up against the wall and her gun splayed out lackadaisically between her legs.

'…_And the fish is hooked.'_

"Sure, Brucey. You seem like an okay guy. I'd like to tell you I'm sorry about this, but the truth is, I'd do anything for Mistah J. Even if that means kidnapping a nice guy like you."

'_If I can keep her talking, I can buy time until Robin or Batgirl get here.'_

"And I'd like to tell you 'I get it', but honestly, I don't. You seem like a nice girl, too. How did you get into this line of work?" Inwardly, Bruce bangs his head against the nearest wall at how pathetic he sounds. Of course he _knows_ the story backwards and forwards, how Harleen Quinzel had been seduced by Joker's charms, first at Blackgate and then at Arkham, but in reality he is just trying to initiate a conversation so that he can coax some information out of Quinn once her guard is down.

"Well, I guess that's fair" Quinn says, folding her hands backwards to crack her knuckles in front of her. "It all started the first night that big-bad Batman terrorized my poor Mistah J."

Bruce resists the urge to roll his eyes, but only just.

"B-man threw him into Blackgate, and I was the only member of the psychiatric staff on-site when they brought him in. Oh, he was so dreamy!"

This time, the urge is too strong, and Bruce has to close his eyes to avoid offending his captor.

"He talked all about how his entire life had been building toward that one moment in time…How I was someone special to him even though we'd only just met! I let him out, and he said that he'd have to put me with the other hostages to make it more convincing for when B-man showed up, or else he might kill me!"

Bruce can't stop himself from interrupting, against his own better judgment.

"As I heard it, the Batman doesn't kill people."

"Well, duh, Brucey! We know that now, but at the time, who could'a said? It was so sweet how Mistah J was worried about me, and I knew right then that it was true love!"

Bruce interjects again, exasperating the more-rational part of his mind.

"The Joker would have known Batman doesn't kill, Harley…I was watching the apprehension on the news, Batman went out of his way to save him. Jumped off a building, even."

Quinn looks taken aback for about half a second, but quickly regains her wits.

"Even if that did happen, I still think it was sweet how Puddin' cared about my safety…you know, it's rude to interrupt so much, Brucey!"

"Sorry," Bruce says, making a show of the rope rubbing on his esophagus. "If I don't keep talking, then this rope itches so much it about kills me. It makes it kind of hard to breathe, too, if I'm being honest."

Quinn looks thoughtful for a moment.

"You're a smart guy, right Brucey?"

'_You have no idea.'_

"Well, I'd like to think so, yeah."

"So you know that if you tried to make trouble, I'd have to make trouble for you, right?"

'_She's either smarter than I give her credit for, or monumentally stupid.'_

"Of course, what's your point?"

'_And the verdict is…'_

"If you promise NOT to try anything, I'll untie you. Just so long as you stop interrupting my story. Deal?"

'_Stupid.'_

"Deal. I won't try anything."

"Promise?" A more carnal part of Bruce notes that it's adorable the way her voice goes up like that, she seems quite childish in her (hopefully) affected naïveté.

"I promise. You can trust me. I'm too wealthy and good-looking to risk my life over something like this!" Bruce doesn't need to feign the laughter after that statement, but she'll never realize the true reason for it is his own realization of how in-character that statement is from 'Bruce Wayne', versus how out-of-character it is from his true self.

"Okay, then!" Quinn claps her hands together cutely before standing up and marching over to the pole Bruce is tied to. She takes out a knife out of her boot, and for a moment, Bruce is legitimately concerned that her sometimes-lack of coordination might be the cause of a rather mundane end to the legacy of Batman. But, after seeming to consider it for a second, Quinn instead puts the knife back into its place and moves around to untie the ropes at the back of the pole. At his questioning look, Quinn waits until she's kneeling behind him to answer:

"You're right, Brucey. You _are_ too good-looking to die. Wouldn't wanna slip up and chance opening a vein or something, huh?"

Bruce is acutely aware that he can feel her hot breath on the back of his neck and it's suddenly driving him crazy.

"No, of course not. I appreciate it."

And almost as soon as it began, the awkward moment ends, and she moves around to his front.

"Thank you" Bruce says, using his normal voice despite himself. Thankfully, Quinn doesn't notice as she retakes her position on the floor.

"You're welcome, Brucey. Now, where were we?"

"You were telling me how you got involved with The Joker…but before you go on, I'd rather ask a quick question, and then change my original question, too."

"Sure, Brucey, shoot."

"Firstly: How long have I been in here? Last thing I remember, I was at the bank." Quinn doesn't need to know that he remembers much more than that. He plays it safe.

"Oh, yeah. Guess you would'a wondered about that. Me and Mistah J robbed the joint, and you were there when we gassed everybody. I suggested we should grab you, and—"

Bruce sees his opening, and seizes it.

"Wait, ransoming me was _your_ idea?"

Quinn sulks guiltily.

"Sorry, Brucey…if I'd known what a nice guy you were, I wouldn't 'a said anything."

"It's okay, Harley."

'_Pull it back. You're laying on the affability a little thick.'_

Quinn noticeably perks up again.

"Really? You mean it?"

'_Then again__, I'm down the rabbit hole as it is…'_

"Sure. I mean, you suggested it, but he didn't have to actually do it. Does he always take your advice so readily?"

Quinn sulks again.

"Not…really."

"Oh." Bruce feigns the empathy for all that its worth.

"I'm sorry, Harley."

"_You're _sorry?" Quinn laughs mirthlessly. "I'm the one who's got you tied up in a room and you're apologizing to _me?_ Man Brucey, you really are somethin' else. With a forgiving attitude like that, how come you're always losing girlfriends?"

Bruce actually chuckles, despite himself.

"I guess you could say I'm not exactly known for my discretion."

"Maybe. But you really are a great guy, some girl's gonna be _very_ happy when she gets her claws on you."

Bruce smirks internally at Quinn's choice of euphemism. It _has_ been a while since he's seen Selina…

"Anyway," Quinn starts again, sweeping her hand dismissively, "we kidnapped you, we put you in the van, and Mistah J tried to sedate you, but I guess he got the dose wrong, 'cause it knocked you out real good! We've been here now for about five hours."

Bruce can't stop his eyes from bugging out, then narrowing just a little too much, forgetting for a moment the character he is portraying.

'_Five hours? What went wrong? Where are Robin and Batgirl? I took a big gamble allowing_ him_ to inject me.__ At least now I know what the substance was…if I'd actually been having a gas-fit, that sedative probably would have done exactly what it was supposed to _without _putting me to sleep.'_

Quinn is talking again.

"I'm sorry, Harley, I zoned out there for a second. Could you please repeat that?"

"I said: What else were you gonna ask me about me and Mistah J?"

"Oh, right. I was going to change my question from 'how' you got involved with The Joker, to 'why' you got involved with The Joker. That is—why do you stay with him? I saw that news report a couple of years ago where he threw you out of that window—"

"That was on the news?" Quinn asks, eyes widening in genuine puzzlement and/or amazement.

'_Careful, Batman. You're treading dangerously close to the water's edge. Play it closer to the vest.'_

"Just the local news," Bruce 'clarifies', shrugging in dismissal.

"Oh…" Quinn looks thoughtful for a moment. "Well, to answer your first question, Mistah J is a lost soul. He just needs someone to be there for him. Just like I needed someone to be there for me. And he was there. I guess you could say I owed him, at first…I don't know exactly when, but somewhere along the way, I fell in love with him!" Quinn's eyes get a tad misty, and it's all Bruce can do not to gag openly. "And THAT'S why I stay with him, through thick and thin, always and forever!"

"So you love him?" Bruce clarifies.

"Yes!" Quinn replies, puffing out her chest with pride.

'_Do I really expect to get through to this stubborn, stupid woman?'_

"And does he love you?"

'_And the die is cast…Fortune favors the bold.'_

"What? Of COURSE he does!" Quinn yells indignantly. "My Puddin'—"

"HARLEY!"

The voice sends a chill down both of their spines, for radically different reasons. Moments later, the nearby door bursts open.

"Hey there, Mistah J!"

Joker's scowl is so dark it seems to blacken the room.

"The police are outside, and I've got one of the Bat-brats tied up…" he begins.

'_No…I have to get out of here.'_

"Somehow, they knew _he_—" Joker pointedly gestures at Bruce, -"was here! Did you fail to search the hostag—er, _guest_—for a mobile?"

Quinn's eyes grow to the size of saucers as he advances.

"N-no Mistah J! I covered him top to bottom, I swear! Honest! Search him, yourself, you'll see!"

***CRACK***

The Joker's punch is so hard Bruce has to avert his eyes. When he looks again, he feels sick. Harley is laying on the floor, bleeding profusely from the mouth. She smiles weakly up at her attacker, eyes apologetic.

"Well, _somehow_ he was able to call the police!" Joker hisses. "I swear, sometimes your INCOMPETENCE—"

"Mistah J, I've been watching him the whole time!" Harley pleads. "He only woke up a few minutes ago—"

***CRACK***

This time, a backhand, and Bruce doesn't look away. Harley crumples to the ground again. Joker appears thoughtful for a moment, stroking his chin, then running a hand through his thin, slicked green locks.

"I believe you, _Harley…_" Joker says coolly, purring her name.

"Then WHY?"

They both turn at once to the source of the voice, and Bruce is shocked to find that the words came from his own mouth, and in his own voice, to boot. Joker stares hard at him, his eyes seeming to bore into Bruce's own. Bruce begins hastily planning for the worst case scenario, that his enemy has pieced together his true identity, until Joker finally breaks the gaze and responds:

"Slapstick, my _delightfully_ agitated friend!"

He laughs then, long and loud, and makes to add something to his reply before stopping, narrowing his eyes at the area around Bruce's neck. He rounds on Harley, and she becomes terrified when she realizes what he noticed.

"Did I _say_ you could un-restrain the GUEST!" Joker seethes, grabbing Harley roughly by the hair.

"Please, Mistah J, I can explain…" Harley says desperately.

"Oh?" Joker says, chuckling darkly and cupping a hand over his ear. "Do tell!"

"He-He said it was gettin' hard to breathe…I figured we should keep him in good shape. F-for the ransom, you know?" Her eyes plead with her assailant desperately, and Bruce nearly snorts again at the idea that she is trying to appeal to Joker's non-existent 'better nature'.

Joker locks eyes with her for a moment, face expressionless apart from the obvious contempt swirling in his green orbs. He seems as though he will make a threat, but in true unpredictable fashion, the words that soon come out of his mouth are vastly different:

"Of course! Way to think on your feet, kiddo!" Joker's mood is suddenly light, his voice almost sunny with his eerily cheerful dismissal.

As quickly as the whole episode started, it's over. Joker is standing her unceremoniously on her feet again, and turning to Bruce with an enthusiastic grin.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Ol' Brucey-boy, but sometimes, when Mommies and Daddies have little disagreements, the only way to solve them is for Daddy to show Mommy who holds the power. Call it 'tough love', if you will." Joker takes a bow as he finishes his declaration, and practically bounces to the door, the spring in his step apparent. He opens it, and just before stepping out into the greater area of the warehouse, he turns to Harley again.

"Oh, and do keep an eye out for Batman, will you? He's yet to show up today and I'd hate to think we're being _rude_ by not being ready for our most honored guest's arrival."

Harley massages her lip slightly before replying in a small voice.

"Yes, sir, Mistah J."

"EXCELLENT!" He turns to wave at Bruce. "Toodles!"

As soon as the door closes behind his monstrous enemy, who laughs menacingly in his wake, Bruce looks over to see Harley crying softly to herself, having seemingly forgotten his own presence.

"Harley?" He ventures quietly; voice still, unconsciously, his own.

Harley (Good lord, when did he start referring to her as 'Harley' in his head?) looks up at him like a deer in the headlights, and after moment manages to regain her cheerful demeanor.

"What's up, Brucey?" Bruce studies her in mild disbelief, her face and voice are seemingly free of any affectation, although her body language seems to lag a tad behind the rest of her dramatic change in attitude.

"I'm sorry." He says simply, the feeling genuine this time.

"Stop SAYING that!" Harley says indignantly, returning slowly to her original seat on the floor. "You're the _hostage_ for Pete sake's!"

"Do you feel like he loves you?"

Harley glares daggers at him, daring him to voice his thoughts more directly.

"W-what?" The waver in her voice betrays her insecurity, and Bruce remains stone-faced as he repeats himself:

"Right now, at this moment, do you feel like The Joker loves you, cares about you like you described earlier?"

"Of course he does!" Harley says proudly. "Didn't you see the way he helped me up, and said I did a good job?"

'_Is she really so dense?'_

"Yes, and I also saw that he was the one who knocked you down in the first place. Do people beat the people they love?"

"SHUT UP!" Harley screeches suddenly, standing up and pointing her gun at Bruce's face. "Just shut up! My Puddin' loves me, he does…he _does_ love me…" Harley trails off, and visibly breaks again. Her shoulders slump, and she begins crying softly again, turning around to face away from him. Every part of her body language suggests abject defeat, and Bruce has to strongly remind himself not to pity the woman in front of him. Despite this, Bruce again feels sick; both from the sight before him, as well as worry for whichever member of his family is tied up outside that door. This thought jolts him back roughly to the most pressing matter at hand:

'_I have to get her to let me go. Whatever it takes.'_

"Harley…" Bruce tries, slipping on his 'Bruce Wayne' mask once again, and watching as she slowly turns around. "I don't know _what_ that man out there feels for you, but it isn't love. He's tried to _kill_ you in the past. He beat you just now, and I'm guessing that isn't the first time…?"

"No," Harley spits bitterly, her head bowed, but her voice suddenly firm, strong and not a little bitter. "It happens all the time. Usually worse."

Bruce knew that already of course, but seeing it up close when he isn't in a position to punish the man responsible makes him feel pathetic and weak.

"Harley, look at me," he pauses until she meets his gaze. He affixes her bright blue orbs with the best 'warm' look he can muster in his naturally cold stare, before continuing. "If you stay with him forever…He. Will. Kill. You. It might not happen soon, but it will eventually, mark my words."

"What am I supposed to do?" Harley replies desperately, and for the first time, Bruce notes, she isn't using her affected accent. "I love him. I can't just leave. He _needs_ me. I need him, too."

'_This is getting past the point of ridiculous, Batman. Lure her over, sweep the leg, and force her to let you out. Either Tim or Barbara are out there, and they_ need_ you.'_

"No. You don't need him. You never did. You've outgrown him. And he doesn't need you either. You're hardly his only lackey, and even if you were, Batman has been fighting The Joker for years, both with and without you. He's usually more of a threat when he works as a lone gun. He can handle himself, Harley."

She continues to meet his gaze, eyes wet with unshed tears.

"It's time for you to handle yourself, too" He finishes softly, ignoring the more pragmatic voice in his head that keeps encouraging him to 'just take her out somehow'.

"Where will I go?" Harley says slowly, voice almost at a whisper. "I can't go back to Arkham, I hate it there. And he'd find me there, anyway, if he wanted to. I certainly can't move away, or find any normal job that'll take me anywhere."

Bruce takes pause at this, his parental-inherited morally-upright side clashing violently with his self-forged pragmatic-crimefighter side.

'_This is a bad idea, Batman…what if she actually takes you up on it? … She won't. She always goes running back to Joker. She's too hard-headed and stupid to change. And even if she _does_ decide to capitalize on the offer, it's a risk I'm willing to take. I need to get out of here to help Tim, or Barbara. And besides, one more criminal off the streets is always a good thing. It doesn't matter where she gets help, as long as she gets it somewhere I can trust. … What if she tries to murder you in your sleep? What about _Tim,_ or Alfred? I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it.'_

Bruce looks again at the broken, defeated woman in front of him, and despite his hard exterior, he cannot help the swell of pity and sympathy that threatens to overcome his hardened exterior.

_'What would father do?'_

Bruce knows the answer to that as definitively as he knows his own name, and in an instant, his decision is made. By now, Harley is looking at the ground again, dejected. Bruce clears his throat deliberately.

'_Last chance to back out…No, I help people. THAT is what the Batman is. A symbol of hope, and help for the weak. She looks pretty damned weak right now. Besides, this might get me out of here faster than a physical escape attempt.'_

"Harley?" Once Bruce is sure he has her attention, he continues. "I know we don't know each other well, but if you ever need help to get away from this psychopath—"

'_Careful. Don't come on too strong. If you defame him too openly, it will push her right back into his arms.' _Bruce meets her curious stare and continues in a charismatic tone which he's found to brook no argument from the opposite sex:

"Then, well…I'm always around. What I mean to say is, my home is a fairly big place, and I know quite a few internationally-respected psychiatrists that would be happy to take your case, if you ever…wanted to leave."

Harley looks at him as if he's grown a second head.

"Harley?"

"W-why?" Her accent is back, he notes.

"Why what?" Bruce asks, although he knows the answer already.

"Why would you wanna help me? After all I've put you through today, and all the things I've done…You don't even know me! You're crazy!"

The opportunity for a veiled insult is too great, and Batman can't resist a carefully disguised jab:

"No, you're crazy!" His mask volleys back, careful to throw a too-large smile on his face as he says it, lest his captor think 'Bruce Wayne' is trying to offend her. Harley responds with a laugh, followed by the most _mature_ rebuttal possible: A raspberry.

They chuckle together, and then—a long silence, and Harley just stares at him like a particularly hard math problem she can't quite solve. Finally, she sighs, before speaking again:

"You know what, Brucey? I might just take you up on that offer, someday..."

"I'm glad to hear it." Another comfortable silence for a some seconds, and then:

"Um, Harley?"

"Hmmm?"

"You know that you'll never get the ransom if the police are already outside, right?" Bruce tries his luck with a bluff: "I mean, Batman will be here in no time at all, and I don't really want to get caught in any crossfire…" He trails off, letting the sentence finish itself in her mind.

"You want me to let you go, don't you?"

'_Check.'_

"If it's not too much to ask. I mean, if you're dead set on letting this thing play out to the end, I obviously can't stop you, but I'd kind of like to get home. I'm tired, and we both know the conclusion to this thing is inevita—"

"Say no more, Brucey," Harley cuts him off with a grin, going around to his back again.

'_Mate.'_

"You know," she starts, and her breath is on his neck again as she toils with the ropes. "I meant what I said earlier. You really are a pretty amazing guy, Brucey. I hope I see you again soon."

"I'm sure you will" Bruce says honestly, looking over his shoulder with a wry grin.

'_Sooner than you think, and sooner than I'd like.'_

"There! All done!" Harley says, giving a triumphant salute as Bruce stand up.

"Thank you, Harley" Bruce says sincerely. "Remember what I said."

She flashes him a legitimately stunning smile.

"Be safe out there, Brucey!"

In a flash he's out the door, and in less than thirty minutes, the situation is resolved by Batman.

* * *

A/N: So, there's part one of either two, three, or four, depending on how I stretch out the planned idea. This first part certainly took a different form from what I had originally planned.

The outfit I describe for Harley is her secondary ('Insurgency') costume from "Injustice: Gods Among Us", which is an awesome game you should definitely play if you like DC comics.

The reason Joker is thought to be in a coma at the start is because I'm setting the episode shortly after "Wild Cards", my favorite Justice League Animated two-parter. (Check it out if you haven't, it's excellent.) Despite this, though, I'm picturing the Arkham Asylum Joker, although I guess any comic-version would fit the vague decriptors I've used.


End file.
